Give me a break!

After 7 rounds of Clomid, 2 rounds of Femara, 4 months of progesterone suppositories, and one failed IUI…we are taking a much needed break.

I bet you thought I was going to say I’M PREGNANT, right?!?! I freaking wish.

I have mixed feelings about this break.

It feels a bit hypocritical. I am constantly talking about how I want a baby more than anything, but yet I’m willing to take a couple months off from trying to reach that goal?

Yep. I am. Ya know why? I need this god damn break.

These four small words perfectly describe the way I feel. I am mentally and emotionally exhausted. Its been 18 months of constant stress and disappointment. This disease has consumed my life for too long. My husband and I need some time to be ourselves.

We are taking just two months. Two months of no doctor appointments, no additional hormones, no sticking bullets up my hooha, no grabbing the thermometer as soon as I wake up, no ovulation tests, no pregnancy tests. Just live “normal” lives. I couldn’t be more excited. As soon we made this decision, I felt like I could breathe again. A weight was lifted.

It feels a bit selfish, but stress doesn’t help the baby making process and my stress level has been through the god damn roof.

Hell who knows, maybe those assholes who constantly say “if you just relax, it will happen”, will be right.

You want me to stick that where?!?

Todays subject?


We found out through some blood tests that my progesterone levels were quite low. Progesterone is produced to thicken the uterine lining to prepare for implantation. It will also thin cervical mucus (yuck, such a gross word) which helps those spermies swim to where they need to go.

My doctor told me he prefers patients to have a progesterone level of 8-9. Mine was a measly 4. So he prescribed PROGESTERONE VAGINAL SUPPOSITORIES. The word suppository is bad enough, then add vaginal in front of it?!? Ick

Ick is a good word to describe the entire progesterone experience.

I was lucky enough to only have to take progesterone once a day. Some ladies have to do this 2-3 times a day.


The suppository itself looks like a little bullet. That is how my husband and I refer to it. “Gotta go put my bullet in”. Some suppositories come with an applicator, mine did not. I tried using a tampon applicator but felt it didn’t get that little guy up there quite far enough. You want to get it as close to your cervix as you can. So you shove that bullet up there and then need to lay down for 20-30 minutes so your body can absorb the progesterone. However, your body does not absorb everything. So you know what happens to the rest? It constantly oozes out. And it feels disgusting. It feels like you are walking around with lotion in your panties.

My advice for anyone starting progesterone suppositories, stock up on panty liners.

Progesterone will also help prevent miscarriages. I was instructed to start my bullets 36 hours after ovulation and continue until either I get my period or I am 10 weeks pregnant. That’s a long time to have lotion in your panties.

I also found the progesterone lengthened my cycle and therefore also delayed my period. You know what is a terrible thing to do to a woman experiencing infertility? Delay her period. I was soooo excited the first month I started the progesterone. My period was 3 days late. I thought for sure that was going to be the month I was finally knocked up! Nope. Just these stupid hormones messing with my cycle. Progesterone is kind of an asshole like that. It mimics many pregnancy symptoms.

  • dizziness, confusion, drowsiness, tiredness;
  • headache, mood changes, feeling nervous or irritable;
  • stomach pain, nausea, diarrhea, constipation;
  • bloating, swelling in your hands or feet;
  • breast pain, swelling, or tenderness;
  • cramps, pelvic pain; or.
  • vaginal itching, burning, or discharge

Sounds like fun right? You’re gonna feel like shit, you have to shove a bullet up your whoo whoo every night, aaand walk around with lotion in your panties. Ah the joys of infertility.



I did seven rounds of Clomid. So I like to think I know a thing or two about it….

Clomid is used to induce ovulation in those of us who do not ovulate or do not ovulate on a regular basis.

Every woman has a different experience with Mr. Clomid. A few of the side effects:

  • Headaches
  • Mood Swings
  • Hot Flashes
  • Abdominal Discomfrot
  • Cyst growth
  • Vision Disturbances
  • Nausea
  • Bloating

This list really does go on. For me the first round of Clomid was the worst. I think a big part of it was just not knowing what to expect. However, I am sure my husband would be glad to vouch for the MOOD SWINGS. I couldn’t even believe how bitchy I was. I was bitchy, and then I was crying because I was bitchy. And then I was laughing about how bitchy I was and how stupid I was for crying over it.

The next four rounds weren’t as bad. Actually, I think I just adapted to the side effects. I knew what to expect and how to prevent it. It didn’t get bad again until baby doctor decided to increase my dosage. This is when the visual disturbances and cyst growth began. I noticed the visual disturbances before going to bed on my second day of round 5. I was seeing “trails” of every thing I looked at. You know when you look at a camera flash and then that is all you can see? Yep, that. Only it didn’t go away. And it followed every where I looked. It got so bad I was dizzy and vomiting. I checked Google to see if I was dying. I wasn’t dying, but I read that you should discontinue use immediately. I really wanted to finish the medicine, I only had a few days left. I had also read on Google that most doctors will not prescribe Clomid for more than 6 months, so I really wanted to make this one count. I called my doctor and they said there was no reason to quit taking it, so I finished. As soon as I finished the symptoms eased. I still swear I see the trails sometimes, but that may be just in my crazy little mind.

I don’t remember now if it was that same month or the next when I got the feeling that something just wasn’t right. I was having cramping, worse than normal, and at odd times of my cycle. I was hoping it was just from the prenatal meds blocking up my pipes. After laxatives didn’t work, I decided to go see my regular doctor. She ordered an ultrasound, sure as shit, cysts on my ovaries. I’m not sure why, but this was a kick to the gut to hear. It just lead to a whole new list of “what ifs”.

Every F*cking Morning

Below, my friends, is a picture of the basal temperature chart I was speaking of in my previous blog


Looks harmless, right?

Your basal temperature is your lowest body temperature, taken during rest. I was instructed to take my temperature EVERY FUCKING MORNING, before I even roll out of bed, and then go write it on this stupid chart. EVERY MORNING. My alarm goes off, I instantly grab the thermometer from under my pillow and stick the damn thing in my mouth. EVERY MORNING! I think you get the point. It is also important to write on our chart every time we have intercourse. Nothing says romance and spontaneity like charting your sex life.


The picture above is why I hate these charts. These are my charts, the charts that have been running my life for months. You’ll notice none of them look the same. Looks a little bit like a roller coaster, right? Yep. It feels like a roller coaster. Every dip and spike in temperature means something. When those dips and spikes don’t come when they SHOULD, it feels as though another month has been wasted.

Although these charts are a pain in the ass, I would recommend them to anyone trying to conceive. They are soo helpful in getting to know your body and your cycle.

After eight weeks of being a good student, I returned to my baby doctor. I was optimistic that we would finally be able to take a step forward.

And boy did we ever, Clomid………


One step forward…

We found out that my miscarriage was actually a partial molar pregnancy. This means, two of Logan’s super sperm attacked one of my eggs. Then the tissue that would normally become a fetus, instead just turns into a mass of tissue. The actual fetus usually only survives 8 weeks. While I was in week 10 of my pregnancy when I started to bleed, the fetus actually only measured at 8 weeks 6 days.  Molars are very rare, only about 1 in 1000 pregnancies is found to be a molar pregnancy. We never would have known that this was a molar pregnancy had my physician not encouraged us to do the D&C. After having a molar pregnancy I had to get my blood levels checked until my HCG level dropped all the way to 0. This is to be sure the entire mass was removed. I started with weekly blood draws. And this went on for many, many, many weeks. I couldn’t tell you how many for sure, but it felt like forever. Every time I had to go sit in that lab chair it was a reminder of what happened. It is hard to heal when the wound is constantly reopened. Finally my levels got low enough that I could start going only once a month. That went on for MONTHS until it was finally at zero.

We could not even think about getting pregnant while I was still being tested for HCG so during this time I had to go back on the pill.

However, I can barely remember to put pants on every day, so the pill was not a good fit for me. Once my levels hit zero I threw that shit in the garbage. We decided we weren’t going to try to pregnant, we just weren’t going to prevent it either.

About a year later the big guy got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife. My first reaction was probably not the best. We were  in a crowded restaurant and I screamed “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!” Once the shock wore off, I did say yes. We had a beautiful wedding one year later. Now the baby makin was really gonna start (or so we thought). We started trying right away. I did research online, bought some ovulation tests, and we were goin at it like rabbits. That was Logan’s favorite part. The “practicing” part of trying to conceive.


Six months had gone by and—nothing. Now I know, it can take a healthy couple at least a year to get pregnant. I know, I’ve heard it, I’ve read it. I KNOW, OK. But since I had now been off the pill for YEARS and we hadn’t been preventing anything for YEARS, I felt it was time to go see a doctor about this. We live in a small rural area, so there aren’t many fertility clinics around these parts. I called the ob/gyn office to try to make an appointment with the one doctor in the area that specializes in infertility. “I’m sorry ma’am, he is no longer taking new patients.” Well fuck me, that is just my luck. So we make an appointment with the doctor they tell me is the next best thing.

We had to wait about a month to get in to see the doctor, but I was SO EXCITED!!

I don’t know what I expected from that first appointment. They would just magically know the issue as soon as I put my legs up in those stirrups? Actually, going in to the appointment I was not expecting an exam at all. I was not mentally prepared and I definitely had not shaved in places that should have been shaved. That was an awkward experience for my husband also. He was not prepared to see a man put his fingers inside his wife— those are his words, not  mine. We did the exam, the doctor complimented my cervix, gave us a basal temp chart and off we went. He told us to chart for 8 weeks and then come back. I was quite disappointed, but at least we were moving forward.

I feel the need to go into detail about this god damn basal temp chart, so that will be the next post.


See you all soon!!!


I know I haven’t even begun to tell you about our infertility journey yet, but I think its important to capture my emotions while they are raw. And they are RAW right now.  So consider this the intermission of my story.

Today was day 14 of our two week wait. Those who are also on this journey know that the damn 2WW seems like the longest two weeks of your life. We did our first IUI 14 days ago. I will describe the actual procedure later in my blog, for now I am going to focus on these crazy emotions.

I was very hopeful for the first week and half. While I was hopeful, I also had to prepare myself for disappointment. I had to stay realistic that this just might not be the time it sticks. And this wasn’t the time that it stuck.

I woke up this morning to pee on a stick and sure as shit, negative. Not even a faint line I could imagine to be there. This sucker was as negative as it could get.


I haven’t cried about it yet, I hate crying. Even when I’m alone. Its coming though. I can feel it. The anger and sadness are just building up and waiting to come out. I’m sure it will come at the worst time, as it always does. I was prepared for this disappointment. I knew days ago I was going to get a negative test. I could feel it. It still sucks to see it.


Grab the tissue

When you start trying to conceive you get asked the same questions over and over and over and over. One of those questions is “Have you ever been pregnant before?”. My answer to that is, yes. And here is that story…..

Logan and I had been dating for about two years when I realized I hadn’t gotten a visit from lovely Aunt Flo for a little toooo long.  We were not ready for this. We did not plan this. I FUCKING PANICKED.  I went to the drug store and stocked up on pregnancy tests. The first one, positive. The second one, positive. The third one, positive. Now I was really freaking. How was I going to tell Logan this? We hadn’t even discussed having children! When Logan came home from work, I was curled up in the fetal position crying. Logan, being the wonderful, easy going man that he, is simply told me “It is going to be fine.”

As I mentioned in my previous blog, Logan and I were regular customers at our small town bar, so it didn’t take our friends long to figure out that something was up. I was 6 weeks pregnant when I found out and by 8 weeks most of our friends and family knew about it (mistake #1).  We were very excited. I had a friend who was also got pregnant around that time and I was looking forward to our children growing up together. I was 10 weeks pregnant when I woke up on a Sunday morning and realized I was bleeding. That day is marked as the worst day of my life thus far.  Logan was not home (probably out hunting or doing some very manly thing), so I called him to tell him.  He was home within minutes and rushed me to the hospital.  My mother and sister met me at the hospital and tried to assure me that everything was fine. But I knew, everything was not fine.  After a terrible experience with a terrible doctor (that hospital visit could be a whole story on its own) we were told that there was no longer a heartbeat. How could this be? I had two ultrasounds prior to this. I heard that heartbeat. How could it just be gone?!? The look on Logan’s face is one I will never forget. That is the moment I knew, he truly loves me.

The next couple of weeks are a blur. Although the ER doctor told me that my miscarriage would “take care of itself naturally” after speaking with my doctor I decided to have a D&C. I don’t remember much of the actual procedure day, except sitting there and thinking “How is this my life? This stuff does not happen to me”. I will never forget the date, it was one month before my 29th birthday. I now had to go tell all my friends, family, and co workers that I was no longer pregnant. This was the hard part. Everyone was very kind and understanding. However, at that point all of the I’m sorrys and This must be God’s plans and I’ll be thinking of yous just sounded like “blah blah blah”. I was too angry and hurt to hear any of those things. My favorite was when I would tell someone and they would respond with a story; “my sister had a miscarriage once. It was no big deal. She was back to the gym in a couple days”. Well good for your fucking sister, that is not me. I am broken. I had plans for that baby, and now all those plans are gone. Yes, I only knew I was pregnant for a four weeks, but in those weeks I had prepared myself for the future. I was ready to change my life and become a mother. It is not a pain that goes away. I think of it many times a year but especially on March 25th, one month before my birthday.

I’m going to end by telling you something about myself that I forgot to put in the first blog.

I am a great freaking aunt, if I do say so myself. It is a blessing I am thankful for every day. I am an aunt to not only my niece and nephews but also to my friends’ children. However, I have always wanted to be a mother. I was put on this world, to be a mother. And god damnit, I will be a mother.



Warning and Welcome

I am going to start right off with a warning. This is not your average infertility blog. Before you read any further, I need you to do me a favor. Go up and press that little X in the right hand corner if any of the following pertain to you:

  1. If it makes you blush to say any of the following words: PENIS, VAGINA, PERIOD, SPERM, SEXUAL INTERCOURSE, or MASTURBATE.
  2. If you simply cannot handle any sort of cursing and do not want to be part of a community who does curse.
  3. If you just have a shitty sense of humor

Now that we have gotten rid of all the Debbie Downer’s, I can get on with the rest of my warning. I AM NOT A WRITER. The closest thing I have to a journalism degree is the communications class I failed out of in 2004. Feel free to judge my spelling, grammar, and use of punctuation. At the same time, please realize, I don’t give a damn.

On to the fun stuff! I am going to start off by telling you a little bit about myself and the ol’ ball and chain.

My name is Traci. I am 32 years old (but will forever remain 22 in my own mind). I am a healthy little broad. Not over or under the “ideal” weight for my height. No past of any sort of STD’s (THANK YOU, JESUS). No illness or diseases. No family history of any infertility or any problems with lady parts. I have actually been told by MORE THAN ONE doctor that I have a great looking cervix. So yeah, be jealous.

The man who is lucky enough to be married to that cervix is Logan. A health 29 year old hunk of a man. Logan also has no illness, no diseases, and no signs of any problems with man parts in his history. He has EXCELLENT sperm, which he likes to brag about often.

You are probably thinking “Why the hell do I care about your cervix or your husbands sperm?” Well my friend, what I am telling you is that there is NO GOD DAMN GOOD REASON that we are suffering from infertility.

Logan and I met about six years ago (who’s counting, right?).  We were just young, fun loving kids and we met where all young, fun loving kids do. The local tavern. We shared a couple dances, maybe a little more, and that was that for awhile. Logan courted me for a bit, but I would have none of it. I was a wild woman and did not want to be tamed! However, my husband is a persistent and very stubborn man. Finally after about four months of avoiding him like the plague, I decided to give him a chance. And boy am I glad I did……………

I’ll be back with more later. If I give you all the good shit now, you’ll never come back

Please come back